


The Cupcake Chronicles

by Two_Guns_And_A_Knife



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 19,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_Guns_And_A_Knife/pseuds/Two_Guns_And_A_Knife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All is fair in love and war. Or maybe sometimes Life and Fate just love being mean. An AU Babe story told from a different perspective. Theme Song: Starships by Nicki Minaj.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cupcake!

**Cupcake!**

She was so soft and sweet.

Like a simple vanilla cupcake with rich chocolate buttercream frosting on top.

Not too expensive to afford, and easy to swallow.

Not too much a burden to your stomach, and a saving grace to your mental health.

She smelled like cinnamon and honey.

So warm.

So familiar.

So tasty.

She always smiled, and never hesitated to said "Yes" whenever you wanted something.

**_Too bad that was back when she was sixteen._ **

I lie on the pavement, unable to move or feel my arms and legs. She jumps out of the brand new sleek shining black Porsche Boxster and stands above me. I stare at the huge designer three-carat diamond wedding ring wrapped around her slender finger.

"I've told you not to call me  _Cupcake_!" She yells.

She looks so cute when angry. I can't help letting out a dreamy sigh. She hears my sigh and narrows her oh so beautiful ocean blue eyes. Her wild unruly light brown curls dance in the breeze. I know she's about to kick me in the ribs. Like she usually does. I brace myself for the upcoming pain and hear the sound of an engine approaching. The familiar sound of a sexy, powerful engine. The engine of a Porsche 911 Turbo I know too well. She turns away from me. Like she always does. And I feel like crying. My invincible rival is finally here. No doubt to take her away from me. Again. And forever...

The ever so curious bystanders moan. I know he has just wrapped her in his perfect muscular Mocha Latte arms. The traffic stops. A couple middle-aged women faint and drop to the ground. Great. Now he's kissing her soft red lips. I lie on the ground cursing my fate and hearing them leave. The crowd lets out a collective sigh and disperses. No one pays any attention to me. My hair—the wavy curly longish hair on my head, chest, back, butt, arms and legs— hurts. My whole body aches. I hope someone has already called 911. A pug and a poodle come near and sniff at me. Their owner barks out a sharp command and they trot away from me. I suddenly have a feeling that the ugly little pug wanted(and probably still wants) to pee on me.

My name is Joseph Anthony Morelli. I am a hardworking, highly-praised Trenton police detective. I come from a well-respected, God-fearing local family. I am also known as Trenton's Very Own Italian Stallion. I have a big orange playful dog and a nice cozy 2-story house on a quiet street. And I've just found out the love of my life Stephanie Plum, the Bounty Hunter From Hell, the woman who has been bullying me ever since I was 8 and she was 6, is now married to her mentor and my sworn enemy Ricardo Carlos "Ranger" Manoso, the tall dark handsome mysterious and dangerous Cuban American who owns a very successful security company. The sky darkens. Rain starts to fall. Still I lie on the pavement, unable to move or feel my arms and legs.

This is my life's story.

I hope the merciless raindrops can wash away my misery...

Could somebody please call 911 and ask for an ambulance?

Please?


	2. It Wasn't My Fault!

**It Wasn't My Fault!  
**

I was born a healthy beautiful baby, but somehow grew up into a tormented man.

A drop of crystal tear falls out of my eyes as I lie on the pavement looking up at the dark foreboding sky. The unbearable pain and sorrow within me rage though my scarred heart, traumatized soul, and aching body. Sometimes I can't help feeling like an innocent lamb that's going to be butchered, cooked and devoured by a mob of gluttonous monsters. From time to time I feel the powerful urge to look up at the sky and ask no one in particular what I did wrong in my previous lives. But I have never ever yielded to the urge. Not even once. Why? Because being a devout Catholic, I am not allowed to believe in previous or after lives. So I stagger onward on my life's path with ferocious courage and tightly clenched teeth.

And I have totally no idea what went wrong.

I was born the second son of Anthony and Angie Morelli. My sweet, gentle, loving and caring Grandma Bella burst into tears of joy upon the sight of me. "Oh Merciful Lord in Heaven! He looks just like a little angel!" She exclaimed in heavily accented English. All the doctors and nurses and irreverent bystanders smiled and nodded in agreement eagerly. Everybody was so kind. No one wanted to upset this fragile little old lady. And it took my poor father—may the Lord rest his soul in peace—48 hours to persuade Grandma Bella not to name me Edward. Or Jacob. And they finally agreed to name me after my grandfather Joseph, a famed good man and most loyal husband.

I close my melted chocolate eyes to shut out the annoyingly persistent raindrops. _No. Don't lie to yourself, Joseph._ A familiar stern and snarky little voice sounds in my mind. _Maybe you do know what went wrong_. _You are named after your grandfather. You should try you best to be an honest and decent person._ I blow out a sigh of defeat. Yes, I do remember. I still remember the day I stood inside my father's dark stuffy garage with my pants and underwear around my ankles. It was a hot cloudless summer day and I was 8. I was bathed in cold sweat and had never felt so scared. I wanted to scream for help or run away, but I didn't dare. The only door of the garage was blocked. And there was no way I could run with my pants and underwear around my ankles. Besides, I was only a child, a terrified 8-year-old little boy, who was helplessly hypnotized by the beautiful fearless bright blue eyes in front of him.

"It will be fun!" My elder brother Anthony had said with his trademark cheeky grin on his face. "Trust me, Joseph. The girls will love this new game!" I should've have known not to trust him...

Hello?

Has someone called 911 and ask for an ambulance?

I can need some help here, please.

Hello?


	3. An Intergalactic Princess

**An Intergalactic Princess**

As usual, my desperate call for help receives no response. I am always, always left to fend for myself. And sometimes the world feels so dark and so lonely...I know I should not whine. I know I should stay calm and strong. I am a 6 feet, 1 inch fully grown-up man. I weigh nearly 184.5 pounds. I am a Trenton Police detective. I am the proud owner of a always drooling dog. Life's difficulties are God's special tests for me. I have to prove my worth. I have to work extra hard. I have to set a good example and show the world I am really, really not Trenton's laughing stock! But now I am soaked, cold, and hurt. My stomach is growling like a rabid man-eating monster. And I am officially on the verge of a total breakdown.

All of a sudden my ears twitch and my heart leaps up. I can hear the sound of sirens coming nearer and nearer. _Thank God I am saved!_  I want to yell. But I manage to get a firm grip of myself just in time. I have an image to maintain, and I really don't want to scare all the passersby who look at me weird. I am the Hairy Italian Stallion. I am a polite, considerate and decent man. My mother and grandmother say I am tall, dark and very handsome. And you bet I would rather die than do any harm.

Soon 2 TPD patrol cars and—Yay! Sorry, I just can't help it—an ambulance screech to a stop. The EMTs jump out of the ambulance and hurry toward me with a stretcher. I smile gratefully at them and let out a huge sigh of relief. They arrive earlier than I expected. Maybe my luck has finally changed. Maybe from now on my prayers are going to be answered. Maybe I can have a fair chance for true happiness. Maybe I can even make the love of my life smile at me...I am so absorbed in my blissful thoughts that I fail to hear the footsteps of my fellow brothers and sister in blue.

"Joe. Joe. Joe." Carl Costanza, the uniform officer who grew up in the same neighborhood with Stephanie and me, grins down at me like the full silver moon. "When are you gonna learn?"

The other 3 uniform officers and the 2 EMTs laugh heartily at Carl's tease. Both my eyes start to twitch. Yes, you may have already guessed that this is not the first time I got beat up by my angel, the sweet, pretty and lovely Stephanie Plum. Everyone knows how much Stephanie hates me calling her "Cupcake". But somehow I just can't stop calling her "Cupcake". Every time my eyes fall on her my brain turn airy and fluffy. Every time I think of her my heart bursts with sweetness and softness. Every time I hear her beautiful voice the universe turn all rosy and pink. I am so helplessly and hopelessly in love with Stephanie. Nothing can ever thwart my love for her. Not even her huge diamond wedding ring. Not even her perfect yet scary mentor. Not even her fearsome temper. Not even—

_Even if she was the person who traumatized you and left you scarred and broken for the rest of your fucked-up life that Sunday inside your father's dirty garage?_ The snarky little voice in my head snorts knowingly.

My throat goes dry. My body temperature drops 10 degrees. My teeth start clattering in fear as once again the memory of that day creeps back into my head like a hissing black mamba. I was supposed to teach Stephanie a new game that day. A game called "Choo Choo". A game my elder brother Anthony taught me. I was supposed to make sure no one was watching. I was supposed to take Stephanie to my father's garage. I was supposed to make her take off her panty. I was supposed to...supposed to...supposed to...

And somehow I ended up standing in the middle of my father's dark stuffy garage with my pants and underwear around my ankles. In front of Stephanie Plum. And all her little girl friends. All 15 of them. I am still not sure what happened. All I remember is the giggles and "Ah!" and "Oh!" and "Eeeeew!" of the little girls. Stephanie didn't say a word. She just looked at me with those amazing blue eyes. And I almost died of shame and fear. I had secretly fallen in love with Stephanie ever since the first time I saw her at Carl's birthday party. I was 6 that year and, yes, she was 4. I'd wanted to hold her hand. I'd wanted to hear her laugh. I'd wanted to be her Superman, her Spider- Man, and her Batman. And now here I was, standing in front of her with my pants and underwear around my ankles like an idiot. It was not supposed to happen this way. I didn't know what to do. I so wanted to cry...

And then all Hell broke loose when Stephanie's wavy-haired cousin Shirley suddenly ran out of the garage screaming bloody murder. It didn't take long for all the grown-ups in the neighborhood to arrive. The little girls started talking, crying, laughing at the same time. Silence dropped like a nuke bomb when all of little girls turned to point their fingers at me. Everyone inside the garage stared at me hard. I peed on myself. The little girls said "Eeeeew!" at the same time. That night Anthony and I were almost beaten to death by our weeping, raging mother.

But still I was in love with Stephanie Plum, the girl who wanted to grow up and become an intergalactic princess, the girl who narrowed her eyes and made me take off my pants and underwear in my father's dirty garage...


	4. Clueless Joe

**Clueless Joe**

I yelp in surprise and pain as my stern and rigid mother smacks me on my forehead. The deafening silence that follows grows awkward and foreboding. My mother becomes frighteningly quiet and borderline violent whenever she's angry. And the best way to stay alive under this situation is keep your head low and your mouth shut until her boiling rage is spent. I chew my lip nervously, waiting for my mother to cool down a bit. In the cheap plastic chair beside my narrow hospital bed, my always happy and carefree Grandma Bella starts to sing a song in Italian. My mother places a shaking hand over her eyes and lets out a frustrated sigh.

"When are you going to grow up and learn, Joseph?" My mother's tone is calm and tired, but the blaze in her eyes is screaming at me like a crazy banshee. "When are you going to let go and move on and stop bothering Stephanie? She's a married woman now. Her husband won't be happy if you don't give up."

I look into my mother's beautiful and sorrowful eyes. I wish I have an answer for her question. I wish I can find a way to stop bring shame to my already tortured family. I wish I know why I am so obsessed with Stephanie. She's not exactly the most beautiful woman in the world. She's not exactly a sexy kitten. She's not exactly kind and pure and innocent. But I love her anyway. And I just can't take my eyes off her.

I follow her everywhere. I watch every breath she takes. I watch every move she makes. I left roses and chocolates on her doorstep under the cover of the night. The reason why I chose to become a policeman is that I wanted to be able to stop her car at anytime and smile at her. Yes, at one time I did plan to join the Navy after high school. I wanted to be a Navy SEAL. I wanted to be the national hero who single-handedly killed off all the enemies and saved our country and obtained world peace. I wanted to flash my million dollar smile when shaking hands with the President in front of CNN, ABC and NBC news cameras. I wanted to look into the cameras and say "I love you, Stephanie Plum, Cupcake. Will you marry me?" on national live TV. I wanted to put my Navy SEAL hat on Stephanie's head and sweep her off her feet while the crowd clapped and cheered. But I was forced to forfeit the dream when I found out that I suffered from seasick. I was, and still is, afraid of the sea. The cold, vast, and merciless sea. Where man-eating sharks, ultra-venomous sea serpents, giant squids, and sea monsters live...

"Joseph!" Again my mother smacks me hard on my already bruised and swollen forehead. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, mother. Sorry, mother" I murmur. The memory of my father's lean handsome face surfaces in my mind. My father died in a car accident when I was 10. He and the lady who sold donuts and fruit tarts eloped and were on the way to the airport to catch a flight to Rio de Janeiro when his bright red Alfa Romeo skipped and slammed head-on into an 18-wheeler. My mother didn't speak to anyone for over 3 months after his funeral. It was a closed casket viewing. And Grandma Bella kept trying to pry the coffin open so that she could kiss her beloved favorite son goodbye. Everyone cried. But my mother's eyes remained dry. I turned my head around, and saw Stephanie crying in her mother's arms.

And I fell in love with her all over again at that moment...


	5. Thief Of Hearts

**Thief Of Hearts**

They release me from the hospital.

The moment I unlock the front door and steps inside my lovely cozy silent empty 2-story house, loneliness hits me in the face like a sledgehammer. A drop of salty crystal tear rolls down my cheek. I let out a ragged sob. My concussed brain is no longer swollen. My cracked ribs will heal on their own. But the gaping hole in my bleeding broken heart grows larger and deeper every day. Stephanie Plum, my cute and pretty angel, my sweet and fluffy Cupcake, is now married to my foe. Ricardo Carlos "Ranger" Manoso, the cold-blooded mercenary, the calculating opportunist, the manipulating, self-righteous loose cannon, the tall dark handsome perfectly muscular mysterious dangerous man I envy and hate, has stolen the love of my life away from me like a shameless thief.

I wonder what Stephanie sees in him. I wonder what everyone sees in him. Men respect him. Cats, dogs and kids like him. Women drool after him. Hell, even my Grandma Bella moans a little whenever he is near. Oh Lord, am I the only one who's capable and smart enough to see through his façade? He's not a hero. He's not a savior. He's not a brilliant and successful businessman. He's nothing but a soldier of fortune, a hired muscle, an ordinary and average thug. He hires crazy, ugly, dangerous men with questionable past. He plays by his own freaking rules and moral code instead of the law. The first time I overheard my Stephanie, my beloved Cupcake, calling him "Batman", I almost died. The first time I overheard him calling my Stephanie, my darling Cupcake, "Babe", I wanted to smack someone really, really hard upside on the back of his head or choke myself to death.

Whenever she gets herself in trouble, he's always there to sweep her off her feet and save the day.

Whenever she's upset, he's always there to kiss her on top of her head and lighten up her day.

Whenever I get the call and arrive on the scene, thinking I am finally able to live my dream, he's always there to ruin my day.

I so want to jump out of my greyish blue Ford SUV and stomp toward her. I so want to wave my hairy arms through the air as if they are windmills in a hurricane. My face shall contort with worry and anger and fear. Tiny drops of garlic-scented saliva shall fly out of my mouth and spit everywhere. "Cupcake! Jesus Christ! What the HELL have you done this time, Cupcake? Haven't you done enough damage, Cupcake? Can't you see you are just not good enough for this, Cupcake? Don't you know you are worse than a bad joke, Cupcake? What if you get someone killed, Cupcake? What if you get yourself killed, Cupcake? Why can't you just quit your job, marry me, settle down, wash my underwear, cook me dinner, bear me children, and be happy and contented, Cupcake?" I so want to yell at her at the top of my lungs and show her how deeply I love and care about her. I so want to yell at her at the top of my lungs and show her how much I worry about her safety and happiness. But my hateful enemy, my cursed rival, is always there to block my way and make me swallow back my confession of love...

I break down and weep as my mental stress and physical pain finally get to me. I look upward pleadingly seeking divine intervention and once again see the small hole in my ceiling. I can't help asking out loud, "Why me?" I am so helplessly and hopelessly in love with the woman in my dream, but now she's wearing somebody else's ring. Oh the woe! Oh the sorrow! Oh the angst! What have I done to deserve this? I'm a 30-something Trenton police detective. I'm known as the Hairy Italian Stallion. I am 6 feet 1 and not terribly bad-looking. I have a playful dog and a house with a small rose garden in front. I have a steady job and stable income. I have ambitions and dreams and good table manners. I brush my teeth before sleep and I take my shower every morning. I have family and friends who love me. I may be traumatized for life because of the garage/Choo Choo incident but I always look at life positively.

Why oh why did my Stephanie, my precious Cupcake, marry him?

Why can't she smile at me and love me?

Why did she have to run me over with the wedding gift he gave her?

Why are my prayers never answered?

Why did I have a feeling that Venus, the Goddess of Love, has just shrugged and said, "C'est la vie"?

Why?

Why?

**WHY?**


	6. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

**Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This  
**

I lost my innocence that summer day inside my father's garage.

I lost my virginity 8 years later in the backseat of my cousin's pick-up truck.

I was a scorned and lonely teenager. She was one my cousin's ex-girlfriends. She was drunk and didn't give me the chance to say no. It was over in less than 3 minutes. The smell of alcohol smacked me so hard in the face that I almost puked. I didn't even know her name. I only knew that she was 2 or 3 years older than I was and snored like a train. I tried to wiggle from under her, but she was too heavy and I had no strength left in my lean thin limbs. So I bit my lip and wept. I felt so helpless and so ashamed. I had been saving myself for my Cupcake, my Stephanie. I has always wanted to wait till our wedding night. We would lead a happy, fulfilled and normal life. I would be the proud man of the house. She would be my lovely obedient wife. We would laugh, joke, and enjoy life. There would be no shadow of guilt and unhappiness in her beautiful eyes. She would love me much, much more than her own life. But now all of a sudden all was lost. My body and lips were no longer pure. I had been tainted by someone named Emily, Elizabeth, Carlo, Amy, Janet, Kim, or Joyce. Oh the grief! Oh the pain! Oh the—

"Joseph!" My mother smacks me hard upside the back of my head, making me bite the tip of my tongue, and hisses under her breath. "Stop making funny noises. People are looking at us!"

Oh yes, people are always snickering behind my back all the time. They say I am a poor lovesick fool. They say I am delusional. They have been saying the same thing ever since I was 18 years old. I force a weak smile at my annoyed mother. I secretly let out a sigh of relief the moment she turns her attention back to my Grandma Bella. People inside Pino's give my mother the familiar sympathetic look as she gently wipes a smidge of tomato sauce off Bella's face. Yes, my mother can be tender and loving at times. And even if the good and kind people of Trenton suspect she had something to do with my father's tragic death, they wisely keep their mouths shut around her.

I bite into my last piece of mushroom and roasted red pepper pizza. Somehow the hot gooey yummy cheese reminds me of the evening I walked into Tasty Bakery and saw Stephanie behind the counter. Her wild unruly hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She looked like a princess out of a fairy tale in that cute little apron. And she was smiling so brightly that I nearly went blind. I stood there gaping at her like an idiot. I wanted to say Hi. I wanted to smile. But my brain was a gooey mess of excitement and emotions. _This is your chance, Joseph._ The snarky little voice in my head slapped me in my face and said in a no nonsense tone. _Give her a good new impression. Show her you have grown up and matured. Show her you are no longer the brainless fool you once were. Be smart. Be polite. Be brave. And win her heart._ OK. I closed my eyes for a brief second to collect myself. I took a calming breath. _  
_

"S...Stephanie," I finally stammered.

"Yes? How many I help you, sir?" Her voice was sweet and polite and professional. Her beautiful smile was firmly in place. My head became airy. My mind went blank.

"S...Stephanie," Again I stammered after a long minute.

"Yes? How many I help you?" Her enchanting blue eyes held me captive.

"Steph...Stephanie..." I whispered. I fell in love with her little frown.

"Yes?" Now she was looking at me as if I was the sole center of her universe. In my mind's eyes I saw her in a snowy white wedding gown. We were standing in front of the altar. I held her hand in mine. I was ready to slip the ring, our wedding ring, onto her finger, her "Yes" still ringing in my ears...

"Stephanie..." I moaned dreamily and drooled a little. And the next thing I knew was that I was lying in the cold hard floor of the bakery. My jaw and the back of my head hurt like hell. And Stephanie, my darling Stephanie, my cute lovely sweet Cupcake, was cursing in both English and Italian and kicking me like a professional thug in my ribs.

"What the Hell do you want, Joe Morelli? Why can't you buy a cannoli like a normal person?"

God, she looked so adorable when she was mad. And suddenly I felt no pain. Her "Yes" was still ringing in my ears, and now I had her full attention. It was a moment I would always treasure. It was a memory that would keep me warm on the coldest night. I felt so happy that I could die...

Hot burning tears flow down my face. And now my Stephanie, my Cupcake, is married to another man. I curse the day she got laid off from her former job and met that perfect muscular Mocha Latte mysterious dangerous man.


	7. Invisible Touch

**Invisible Touch**

The first time I saw them together I almost died. The mercilessly cold blade of jealousy stabbed through my heart and shattered my devastatingly lonely soul. I blinked. I gaped. I couldn't believe my deceiving eyes. I stood there frozen, my mind a total blank. I was lost for words. My Stephanie, my Cupcake, the meaning and joy of my life, and the future mother of my 6 beautiful kids, was wrapped in the arms of a perfect stranger. He was tall, dark, handsome, mysterious and dangerous. She was sweet and cute and lovely and pretty and adorable.

 _They look like a match made in Heaven, don't them, Joseph?_ The snarky little voice in my head whispered in my ear. _Look at those perfect muscular arms. Look at that flawless smooth Mocha Latte skin. He's perfect, just perfect. You are no match to this perfect man, my poor boy. No match.  
_

"No! No! No!" Hot burning tears burst out of my eyes as in great pain I yelled. I staggered forward, my hairy hand over my aching heart, my vision blurred by tears. "Get away from him now, Cupcake! You don't belong with him! You are mine! Mine! MINE!" I choked a little and pleaded. She turned her face to look at me. Her enchanting blue eyes held me captive. I would pry her arms off his waist. I would save her from the evil clutches of the drop dead gorgeous wicked man. I would ask her for her hand. People would "Wow!" and "Awwwwww!" when I presented her with my Grandma Bella's wedding ring. "Oh, Joseph, my hero." I could already hear her angel-like voice in my ears. "Yes! Yes! Yes! I will marry you!" And then pink rose petals shall fall down from the sky. The sun, the moon, the stars and the mermaids shall all start to sing. And we—Stephanie, my wonderful Cupcake, and I—shall live together happily ever after, with our families, friends, neighbors and our darling children...

My eyes glazed over. I stumbled a little. I didn't have time to wipe away my drool. I took another step forward. Suddenly the beautiful Mocha Latte man turned to look me in the eyes. I almost got lost in the depth of his clear dark brown eyes. I wanted to blink but couldn't. My mouth went dry. Everything around me became quiet. I was fascinated and frightened at the same time. I was scared and curious. I could feel myself being sucked into his Force Field...I never saw Stephanie coming toward me in lightning speed.

"STOP STALKING ME!" She snarled and hit me in my jaw and my head exploded. "YOU ARE A SICK PERVERT, JOE MORELLI!" She roared and then, yes, kicked me in the ribs and my nose started to bleed. I moaned in half pain, half pleasure and she kicked me again. _Oh yeah,_ I told myself as I drooled a little, _my Cupcake, my Stephanie, is kicking me in my ribs right now. And it feels so good, so so good...Maybe I am really both mentally and emotionally sick...  
_

Then just before I almost blacked out and fainted in heavenly bliss, I heard a soft amused "Babe". _OMG! He's also got a sexy voice!_ The nasty snarky little voice in my head squeaked like a silly teenage girl in a sarcastic tone _. Maybe you are also sexually sick, Joseph. SICK._ I lay there on the ground as the man in black led my Cupcake away from me. I heard the unfamiliar sound of a sexy, powerful engine. Soon I found out that I was left alone. All alone on a quiet and deserted street. The blown-up car kept burning. The sound of sirens drew near. A ugly little pug and a fluffy poodle came near and stopped to sniff at me. The sturdy old lady barked out a sharp command and reluctantly they trotted away from me. Suddenly I felt wet and smelled something funny. _Jesus Christ, Joseph!_ The voice in my head laughed merrily. The cute little pug has just peed on you!

I closed my eyes and locked out the cold heartless world. I tried to think happy, positive thoughts. But somehow all I could hear was "YOU ARE A SICK PERVERT, JOE MORELLI!". And that soft amused and ever-so-sexy "Babe" just wouldn't stop ringing in my ears...


	8. In Too Deep

**In Too Deep  
**

I saw his beautiful eyes in my dream. I heard his enchanting voice when I was asleep. I longed to run my hand down his muscular arm. I craved to feel his smooth Mocha Latte skin. No no no no no no no I was not gay. I just...I just...I just wanted to be like him. Perfect. Composed. Calm. And cool. Handsome. Attractive. Mysterious. And mouthwatering. I'd seen the twinkling light of love and trust in my Cupcake's eyes when she looked at him. I bet that nasty little pug would never ever want to pee on him. I later learned that he was a bounty hunter and mercenary. I whispered his name in secret when I was alone with my heart thumping in my ears. He was such a beautiful man. He'd just stolen my Cupcake's heart away from me. I wanted to be his rival. I wanted to be his equal. I wanted to be as rich and successful as he was. That was the only way to win my Cupcake back, I was most certain of that.

I started dressing in all black. People snorted and told me I looked like a two-bit bouncer of a cheap gay strip club. I asked around for the price of a second-hand Porsche. My mother smacked me hard on my head and told me to get real while my Grandma smiled to no one and hummed another sweet Italian song.I thought about waxing my chest, back and butt. My mother smacked me again when my then unmarried sister caught me with her waxing kit in my hands. I thought about taking kick-boxing classes or Taekwondo. I gave up after my cousin told me how much it would hurt. No, I was not afraid of pain, I swear. It was just that my cracked ribs—bestowed to me by my sweet lovely cute beautiful Cupcake, my darling Stephanie, yay—hadn't completely healed. I thought about perming my hair straight. But I was having trouble finding the perfect beauty salon. I really, really didn't want to become the target of the rumour mills, you know. I tried to learn to raise one brow. I tried to speak with a lower sexier tone. I tried to smile barely there smiles. I tried to hold people prisoner with my mesmerizing eyes. I was this close to my goal. But one day my Captain called me into his office and told me to cut this shit and stop acting like a pervert.

"We are supposed to serve and protect, Morelli, not make a fool of ourselves and make men, women, children, cats and dogs feel ill."

The cold merciless look in my Captain's narrowed steely eyes and his tightly clenched teeth told me maybe this was not a joke. I was a very good team player. I knew how to follow orders. I had no other choice but to forfeit my secret dream. It was all for the greater good, gently but sternly I told weeping myself that night with my blanket over my head. We should be glad that it seemed no one could stand our charm. The snarky little voice in my mind snorted rudely but I paid it no heed. I tried my best and remained calm and collected. I would not budge and give in under any circumstances. I didn't have to be Cuban to be tall, dark, handsome, dangerous, mysterious and ultra-sexy. No, I was not a copy cat. I would win my Cupcake back in my own way and in my own style. Soon she would see the only truth. Soon she would choose the correct path. We were meant for each other. We were born to be together. We had to yield ourselves to our great creator's will. I was her fate. I was her destiny. I was her future. I was her happiness. I would be the father of her children. I would be her calm, assertive pack leader. She would be my calm, submissive wife and Cupcake. People would write songs about us. People would write books about us. People would make movies and TV shows about us. People would write fan fictions about us. Women of all ages and races would fight each other to death to join our fan club. Women world wide would want their daughters and grand daughters to have husbands like me. Stephanie, my Cupcake, my precioussss, and I and our 6 most beautiful wonderful children would live in heavenly bliss. No ugly nasty little pugs would ever again pee on me. EVER.

And I will never ever feel the pricking sensation at the back of my eyes and drool and moan whenever Ranger is near...never...


	9. 50 Shades Of

**50 Shades Of  
**

I put on the tie I bought the other day on the internet. It has unbelievable, immense power, the colorful little ad has said. Once I put it on, I will have whatever I want. Once I puts it on, I will be the master of my Cupcake's heart. I don't know why this ordinary-looking grey tie has so much power. But I am most willing to give it a try. Today is another day. I look into the mirror at myself and bravely smile. Today shall be the day my darling Stephanie, my sweetest Cupcake, leaves that perfect, delicious Mocha Latte man and comes to me. We shall be happy and fulfilled. We shall have no remorse and no regrets. She shall be mine and I shall be hers. I shall finally have the love of my life in my bright red round waterbed. I shall never wake up in the middle of the night and cry my heart out in loneliness and in despair. And I shall never dream of his barely there smile and those enchanting dark brown eyes...I shall never hear that sexy, amused "Babe" in my ears... **  
**

**"STOP It!"**

I yell at the top of my lungs and slap my forehead. My loyal orange dog Bob yelps in my bedroom and runs down the stairs with his bushy tail between his legs. No no no no no no no I am not gay. I am a normal healthy not terribly bad looking man who has average needs: I love pizza. I love football. I love Tom Cruise. I love John Wayne. I play baseball. I watch Smackdown and Monday Night Raw. I am just...I am just intrigued by Ranger, my Cupcake's beautiful mysterious dangerous man. I just want to be happy. I just want to stop feeling lonely. I just want to be cherished. I just want to be loved. I just want to put my ring on my angel Stephanie's slender hand. I just want to hold her hand and kiss her lips. I just want her to clean my house. I just want her to do my dishes. I just want her to sew my buttons and mend my socks. I just want her to make me a grilled cheese sandwich when the night is dark and the land is far and the moon is the only light I see. I just want her to be my perfect submissive obedient Burg wife and the mother of my kids. I just want her to stop being Stephanie Manoso and become Mrs. Joseph A. Morelli. And then my dear mother and the whole Trenton will know I am not a good-for-nothing/pervert who knew how to take advantage of little girls inside dark dirty garage at the age of 8. And now my humble wish shall finally be granted!

My trembling fingertips feel the smoothness of my magical tie. I'm so happy and and excited that laugh my happy laugh. The sky darkens. The wind blows. A flash of lightning flashes outside my small bathroom window. A loud thunder sounds right above my roof. Bob the mutt howls from his hiding place under the kitchen sink. And somehow my mirror cracks. I smell magic in the air. My confidence rises to an all-time high. I walk downstairs and leave my lovely cozy 2-story house. I get in my car and drive toward my destination. Yes, I know where my Cupcake is. I just have to look her in her beautiful blue eyes and smile my charming smile and then she will be mine. Mine. MINE! Our wedding shall be grand and luxurious. Everyone shall be envious of us. The ever so calm and perfect Ranger shall be on his knees begging. My brave and loyal Cupcake, my dearest Stephanie, shall hold her head high and ignore him and come to my side. I shall get my pay raise and promotion. I shall become the Police Chief. I shall rid Trenton of evil and imbeciles. I shall be the father of 6 beautiful perfect little Cupcakes.

I stop my car outside the Tasty Bakery. I put a bright blinding smile on my handsome clean-shaven face. I push open the door. I walk straight toward my lovely Stephanie. The aroma of fresh doughnuts surrounds us. I pay no attention to the overweight and oversized black woman who shamelessly claims to be my Cupcake's best friend. I pretend I didn't see the scowls on people's faces. My dream is about to come true.

"Cupcake," I clear my throat and happily say.

Stephanie, the love and only light of my life, the source of my great courage and inspiration, the kindest and most beautiful woman in this cold heartless world, the future mother of my 6—no, make it a dozen—children, turns around and looks at me. Our eyes lock for an eternal moment. She frowns a little, as if confused. Her bright shining eyes widen a fraction. She opens her perfectly-shaped mouth. Oh Lord, her lips are so close to me. The fruity scent of her sweet perfume dances in the air teasingly around me.

"Stephanie," I whisper huskily and smile sexily. "Will you marry—"

She opened her mouth and throws up on me. Carrot, tomato, whole-wheat bagel, low-fat yogurt and assorted fruit cover me from face to toe. I gape and gag and try really hard not to swallow. Lula, the loud and rude and undereducated black woman puts a hand over her blood-red mouth and excitedly squeals:

"OMG! White Girl! You're carrying the Bat Baby!"

Stephanie, my precious Cupcake, blushes fiercely and doesn't say a thing. The world around me darkens. The chilly breeze howls in my ears. My dream shatters. My universe crumbles. The meaning of my life ceases to exist. Oh the woe. Oh the despair. Oh the loneliness. Oh the longing. Oh the pain. Tears flood down my cheeks.

Will somebody just kill me?

Please?


	10. Little Red Corvette

**Little Red Corvette**

I turn around and march out of the bakery like a heartbroken zombie. I drive across the city, park outside my house, and stumble out of my car. I fish out my keys, unlocked my front door, strip myself of all my dirty clothes and socks and shoes in my living room, and go upstairs for a long hot shower. I walk a dead man's walk. I cry a grown man's tears. I scrub myself squeaky clean. I wash my hair and brush my teeth. I stand in front of the mirror, and my reflection weeps with me. I dry my furry body. I rub a whole bottle of baby lotion into my dark Italian skin. I let out a long, ragged sigh. My loyal orange dog Bob yelps twice and howls under the kitchen sink. I climb into my cold lonely bed, close my puffy swollen eyes, and cry myself to sleep. I toss and turn in my dark, disturbing dream. I moan and groan and yell and scream as a bunch of deformed monsters snarl and chase me around. And I finally scare myself awake.

It is such a bright sunny day. I sit up in my bed, feeling sad, small, and desperate. A bird sings outside in a tree, as if mocking me. A breeze dances through my window and laughs in my ears. Sorrow and pain snicker behind my back. Bob has stopped whimpering. I think I can hear him chewing my 500 dollar tie. Like a pair of assassins loneliness and depression stab me right in my chest. I wrap my arms around myself. I start rocking back and forth. Why is my heart still beating? Why am I still breathing? Why is my brain still functioning? When oh when will I stop suffering? Why can't I be happy? I just want to spend the rest of my life with Stephanie. I just want to be the father of our 12 beautiful children. I just want to smile proudly and make people envy. I just want to walk around the Burg with my head high and a smug on my face.

But now the woman I love and need and want, my Cupcake, my sweet fluffy angel Stephanie, the sole light of my life, the only reason of my existence, is wearing Ranger's loud, flashy diamond ring...

But now the future Grandma of my tens of dozens of grandchildren, my Cupcake, my lovely playful snowy white kitten Stephanie, the answer of my prayer, the salvation of my soul, is carrying Ranger's baby...

No no no it can't be true. No no no there must be a mistake...Will the child have her eyes? Will the child have her smile? Will the child have her wild, unruly curls? Will the child have her Hungarian-Italian hot violent temper? Will the child be a boy? Will the child be a girl? Will the child grow up and learn how to kick me in my ribs like his/her mother does? Will the child have Ranger's silky smooth straight hair? Will the child have Ranger's flawless Mocha Latte skin? Will the child have Ranger's midnight dark brown eyes? Will the child have Ranger's beautiful, enchanting smile? Will the child grow up and learn to raise a perfect brow a tiny little fraction and scare the hell out of me like Ranger does?

OMG! They are not having twins, are they? Identical little boys... Identical little girls...Identical little boy and girl...And they should be mine. They should call me Dad. They should have my last name. They should have my lazy melted chocolate eyes. They should have my charming, slightly crooked smile. They should have my off-white uneven teeth. They should have my garlic breath. They should have my furry arms, legs, backs, butt, and chest. They should be mine, mine, MINE!

NO! I won't give up. No! I have to try. This is my life. This is my happiness. This is my dream. I can't just let go without putting on a fight. I can't live without Stephanie. She is my redemption. She is my salvation. She is my saving grace. She is my breath of life. I need to have her by my side. I need her to chase away the darkness and light up my path. This is a war I have to fight. This is the chance I have to take. I can't just admit my defeat and walk away. I can't. I won't. I shall not budge—

All of a sudden my bedside phone starts ringing. I nearly jump out of my skin and almost fall out of bed. I run a shaky hand through my still wet hair. I take an unsteady breath to calm myself. "Hello?" I pick up the phone and gingerly say. My mother's tight, controlled voice thunders in my ear:

"Joseph Anthony Morelli! Stop making those terrible, silly noises! You are annoying your neighbors!They can hear you from across the street! And why are you still in bed? Don't you have to work? Do you want to get fired? Do you want to lose your badge and become a pizza guy or a mall security guard? Get out of bed right now and go to work. Now! Come over for dinner tonight. I want you to meet someone. And stop bothering Stephanie Plum. Do you hear me? Mrs. Nesta, Mrs. Baggio, Mrs. Beckham and everybody else all told me her husband, that Ranger, is going to kill you if you don't stop stalking her! I didn't raise you and bring you up to be a shameless creepy stalker! They said he's going to chop you up and feed you to the fish and no one will ever find your dead body. Joseph! Did you hear me? You are not still asleep, are you? Don't make me go over to your house and slap you awake! Joseph! Hello? Are you listening? You'd better be listening to me..."

My mind goes blank. My head start to spin. My eardrum screams. I wince. I cringe. I can taste bile in my mouth. I try to speak but can't make a sound. No no no no no no no. My mother has arranged another blind date for me. I hope she's not trying to hook me up with that horrible, horrible woman, Joyce Barnhardt...Oh the woe! Oh the fear! How I wish my Cupcake, my Stephanie is here to cuddle me in her slender arms and tell me everything is going to be alright...

But now she's carrying Ranger's child...


	11. No Man Is An Island

**No Man Is An Island  
**

"You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness, like resignation to the end, always the end..."

Quietly I sing under my breath, ignoring the single drop of my lonely tear. My trembling voice breaks a little. My vision blurs. I try to take a deep breath to calm and collect myself. I fail miserably. I don't know if I can survive the depression and despair I feel. I don't know if I can wake up from this living nightmare. I don't know when I will stop having fits of sobbing. I am no longer sure of the date. I am no longer sure of the time. I am no longer sure if I do exist. I feel like my whole world, my whole universe, has broken apart and is little by little melting into nothingness. I am now a soulless robot aimlessly moving around in a endless meaningless circle. I have lost the strength to live. I have lost my lovely, lovely Cupcake, my sweet darling Stephanie. And her husband, the ever so perfect and beautiful tall dark dangerous attractive man, Ranger, Carlos, may going to kill me for loving her...

Will I feel the burning slicing pain when he shoots a bullet through my weeping brain?

Will I sense the cold numb death when he stabs a merciless razor-sharp dagger into my already shattered heart?

Will he look into my lonely teary eyes and see my desperate sorrowful soul when he bends down to check if I am really dead?

Will he frown?

Will he smile?

Will he dream about me in a hot humid night?

Will he remember my really not that bad-looking face till the day he dies?

I wish I know all the answers.

I wish I don't have so many questions.

I keep on crying, silently.

I wish I can be braver and smarter.

I wish I can be happy and fulfilled.

I just want to spend the rest of my life with my Cupcake, my Stephanie...

"Jesus Christ!" Across the old dented desk in the interrogation room the 30-something dark hairy man who was arrested for breaking and entering and burglary lets out a pleading moan and tries to bang his head on the desk as his eyes start to twitch. "Will you stop doing that? PLEASE? You are driving me crazy here! What the hell is so wrong with you, Joe? Can't you just act like a normal human being for once in your life? I'm gonna call your mom if you keep on crying! I mean it! Jeez!"

I pay my cousin Mooch no heed. What I can see in front of my sad sad eyes is nothing but a grey sea of hopelessness. I feel so cold and so lonely. I want to yell, to shout, and let out all my suppressed emotions but I do not dare. My Captain said he's gonna chop me up and feed me to the fish if he hears a sound from me. And I know crystal clear he's not joking. I have heard countless rumours and stories about him. Jethro Reacher is a living legend. He used to be one of the best and the toughest of NYPD. He's friends with Ranger and they both scare me stiff. He lets me keep my job because I am "worthless in the field but quite useful in the interrogation room". I am not really sure I know what he meant. I just follow his order and sit all day inside the small stuffy room. So far 13 suspects have willingly admitted to their involvement in more than 49 criminal activities. Every single one of them winced and cringed and then ratted out their buddies and partners of crime like they were nothing. And they all turned to look at me and shook their heads before being led out by my smiling smirking snorting fellow brothers and sisters in blue. All day long people keep coming in to take a peek of me. A couple of them actually pat me on my back. I can't decipher the look in their eyes. I am just doing my share of the job. I am just doing what I was told to do. I am just trying to earn my living here. I just want to bury myself with work when trying to forget what I have lost...

Mooch signs his confession, looks at me weird, and then leaves. I wipe away my tears, blow my nose, and find out it's time to go home. I stand up my my cheap plastic chair. I stretch and move my limbs. I know who I am. I know what I can be. I am Detective Joe Morelli. I know I will never be like Lucas Davenport, Harry Bosch, Jesse Stone, Elvis Cole, Joe Pike, my Captain, or Ranger. I have just lost the love of my life and my purpose to live. I leave the station, get in my car, turn on the radio and sing along as I drive toward my mother's house.

"But you didn't have to cut me off, make out like it never happened and that we were nothing..."

I love my voice. It sounds shaky, sad, true, and intriguing. They should have come to me and beg me to sing the song instead of that Belgian-Australian guy with a funny fancy name. I stop the car at my mother's door. I undo my seat belt, get out of the car and let myself in. The TV is on. My Grandma and my dog are peacefully snoring on the couch. The heavenly scent of my mother's cooking dances in the air. My heart leaps up as my mother comes out from her tidy spotless organized kitchen with a large bowl of warm Italian salad. Grandma Bella and Bob wake up on their own. I sit down at the old heavy oak dining table. A smile breaks on my face. My mouth starts to water. Eggplant and pumpkin lasagna. Grilled stuffed tomatoes. Extra cheesy spicy mushroom risotto. Zucchini soup and homemade Tiramisu. A small family dinner. All my favorite dishes. Just what my tender heart and vulnerable soul need after a long day of hard tedious work.

A loud car screeches to a stop right in front of the house. A pang of foreboding grabs hold of me. The door bell rings. My mother smiles and goes to answer the door. Strong heavy perfume invades my nose and makes me gag. High heels TAP on the floor behind me. Very slowly I turn my head. My mouth drops open. My eyes bulge out. I want to jump up and run away screaming as fast as I can. My poor poor legs feel weak. I can not move a finger. I stare at the too familiar face of the red-haired curvy woman. I start to panic as her hungry evil green eyes hold me captive.

"Hello, Joseph." The woman purrs.

Joyce Barnhardt. The horrible, horrible woman. The bane of my humble existence. The sly little girl who lured me into her daddy's garage and molested me when I was 8 and she was 6. The 14-year-old demon who sold my virginity without my knowledge for 20 bucks to my cousin's drunken ex-girlfriend and then wrote about my...little Joseph on public bathroom walls. The greedy ferocious predator who forced herself on me and made me cry in fear and pain and shame 2 years later...

And the surprise blind date my mother arranged for me tonight. Oh Lord.


	12. A Ravished Rose

**A Ravished Rose  
**

Joyce rolls off me, lights a cigarette, and smirks. A drop of crystal tear falls down my face. I don't know what happened, honestly. I know I might have drunk a glass too many at dinner. It wasn't my fault, really. I needed the alcohol to calm my nerves and help me concentrate on my food. I needed the alcohol to numb me and stop me from running away screaming in the middle of the family dinner while Joyce's stocking foot rubbed against my trembling leg. I felt sick. I felt scared. I was helplessly frightened. But I should've known something wasn't right when my mother smiled her kind, beautiful smile and asked Joyce to be a dear and drive me home. I should've known what was going on when Joyce turned to look at me with an evil gleam in her predator eyes and licked her blood-red lips. I could hear my Grandma Bella muttering something and singing a song. I could sense the change in the air as my smiling mother opened the front door for us. I wanted to scream for help. I really did. But I had no strength let and I couldn't make a sound. The stars were so bright. The moon moon was so dim. How the winds were laughing. They laughed with all their might. And just like the calf with a mournful eye who was doomed to die, the red-haired she-devil drove me away from my mother's nice cozy house and then stripped me naked, tied me up, and ravished me on my own groaning bed.

It all happened so fast. I really didn't have time to react. My heart moaned in pain. My brain screamed in shame. I sobbed. I pleaded. I twisted and tossed beneath a laughing Joyce. And then little Joseph betrayed me...Oh Lord, I felt so wronged, so used, so unclean...

"Oh yeah, Joseph, you taste so good." Joyce smiled down at me and casually says. I start crying.

"Oh yeah, Joseph, you are so hairy." Joyce runs a sharp fingernail on my furry chest. I cringe, shudder, and wince.

"Oh yeah, Joseph, we are going to make beautiful babies." Joyce tilted back her head and like Bellatrix Lestrange, the ever so evil and demented witch who killed the ever so handsome and dauntless Sirius Black, laughed victoriously. I whimpered and choked on my tears.

"Oh yeah, Joseph, we are so going to get married." Joyce holds me prisoner with her eerily bright eyes. "And I'm going to punish you every day and every night and make you so happy that you will forget Stephanie. Your mommy will be pleased. She will be so proud."

"No! No! No! No! No! No! NO!" Helplessly I shout in my head and tearfully curse my fate. I won't have the path of my life chosen for me. I won't have the love of my life taken away from me. I will be happy. I will be rich. Stephanie, my precious Cupcake, the woman of my dream and I will have rainbows, day after day. I will put my ring on her hand. I will stay loyal. I will remain true. I will not end up being some other crazy woman's child-making machine. I will...I will...

Desperation grabs hold of me. Reality sinks in. Pain, pleasure, regret, shame and all kinds of sensations rush through my naked, extra hairy, cuffed, shackled, and chained body.

Stephanie is already married.

She is carrying Ranger's baby.

Ranger is going to chop me up and feed me to the fish, the crabs and the shrimps if I don't stop loving Stephanie.

And now I am no longer pure.

I am tainted.

I am contaminated.

I have been marked by another woman.

I have betrayed my sweet fluffy Cupcake, my beautiful Stephanie.

Oh the shame!

Oh the woe!

Oh the pain!

And Joyce said she'll post the video of us on YouTube.

Somewhere downstairs Bob howls like a lonely terrified wolf.

Joyce puts off the cigarette and ties my 500 dollar nylon grey tie around my neck.

I know what she's going to do to me.

I know there' no escape for poor, poor me.

So I do the only thing I can.

My eyes roll back into my head.

I faint.

But somehow I know nothing will stop Joyce from ravishing me.

Nothing.

Nothing...


	13. Thief Of Heart

**Thief Of Heart**

Everybody is smiling. No one hears my weeping. My heart screams in pain. My soul shatters into tiny pieces. I have bruises and bite marks all over me. I feel ashamed and dirty. I feel like a lost child trapped inside a dark smelly garage. I feel like a lonely teenager who has just been used and immediately dumped. I feel like a naked helpless woman cuffed to her own rusty shower curtain rod. I feel like someone has just jumped out of a meat truck and slapped me. I feel violated and betrayed. I feel hurt and humiliated. I want to run away screaming as fast as I can. I want to move to another city. I want to change my name, dye my hair and wax my whole body. But I can't leave my mother. I live on her lasagna. I love her pasta. I feel safe and protected whenever she's near. I will do everything and anything to make her happy. She gave me life. I would rather die to disappoint her. And she said Joyce is right for me...

I look into the mirror at myself. The stern snarky little voice in my head simply sighs. His silence scares me stiff. My mother's happy laughter reaches my ears. She adores Joyce and wants her to become a member of our family. She thinks Joyce is brave. She thinks Joyce is smart. She said what happened in Mr. Barnhardt's garage was nothing but innocent curiosity. She said what happened at Cousin Tony's party was but a misunderstanding. She said the poems Joyce wrote on the public bathroom walls were actually cute and quite funny. She said what Joyce did to me was just girls being girls. She said I should grow up and stop making a fuss out of nothing. She said Joyce is now a changed woman. She said I was very lucky that Joyce likes me a lot and really cares about my well being. She said Joyce just wants me to be safe and happy. She said I am not getting any younger. She said the clock won't stop ticking. She said she wants Grandma Bella to see the lovely little faces of my kids before she dies and goes to heaven. She said real life is not a fairytale. She said it's time for me to give up on my impossible dreams and learn to be like everyone else. She said it's never a good thing to be abnormal. Mrs. Napoli's sons are all happily married with kids. Mrs. Valentino's only son is engaged and busily planning his wedding. Mrs. Palermo's step son has a respectable job at the bank. None of Mrs. Catania's 21 nephews are stalking anybody. I already have a house, a car, a job, and a dog. All I need to do now is find someone, settle down and start my own family.

"And dear Joyce has been there for you for all these years." My mother held me prisoner with her eyes and forcibly said as I winced and cringed and tried hard not to cry. "Stop being such an idiot and ungrateful brat. If you don't do what I say I will disown you, Joseph."

I flush the toilet and wash my hands. I get out of the bathroom and go back to the dining room. I sit down beside Joyce and try my best not to tremble as her hand sneaks up my thigh. Yes, I know I am doomed. I have Grandma Bella's old pure gold ring inside the pocket of my pants. I will be cut off from my family if I don't go down on my knee and propose to the woman I fear the most when dessert—my mother's trademark ultra yummy tiramisu—is served. I know I have no choice but to do what I have to do. I know I have no choice but to spend the rest of my life with the woman chosen for me. I can't be selfish. I must do as I was told. I don't want to shame my family. I don't want my mother to look up toward the ceiling and ask "Why me?". It's for the greater good. It's for my own happiness. It's the best and right thing to do. But my heart belongs to someone else. How can I get marry when I am helplessly and hopelessly in love with the love of my life? How can I forget those beautiful eyes? How can I forget the smooth perfect skin? How can I forget that mysterious smile? How can I forget the heavenly intriguing scent? How can I forget the muscled Mocha Latte—

Wait. What am I talking about? Who am I in love with? Why do I want to look straight into those bright intense dark brown eyes? Why do I want to taste that full perfect lips? Why do I want to run my hand down that muscular rock-hard abs? I am in love with Stephanie! Oh Lord! What is so wrong with me? Why do I feel this powerful urge to lick that smooth flawless Mocha Latte skin? Why does my life have to be so complicated? Why am I so dazed, confused, and without a clue? I just want to be happy. I just want to stop feeling lonely. I just want to love and be loved. I just...I just...

"Joseph," My mother's cool composed voice shatters my universe and cuts through my thoughts. I look up at her in confusion and fear. I feel everyone's eyes on me. I hear Grandma Bella humming _Nessun dorma_ under her breath. "Don't you have something to say to dear Joyce?"

Time stops. Silence falls. I stand up from the table. I take the ring out of my pocket. I know it's now or never. I know I can run like Hell out of here. I know I can live on Pino's pizza. I know I can go to Chairman Mao's Kitchen on weekends and holidays for steamed dumplings, crispy deep fried tofu, wonton soup, and mixed stir-fry. I know I can cook my own pasta. I know I deserve to be happy. I know I deserve to love and be loved. I know I have the right not to spend the rest of my life with someone I don't even like. I know I can and need to be the master of myself and my own life. But I can't disappoint my mother. I can't. I just can't.

So I go down on one knee and propose to Joyce. My heart and soul run away, hand in hand, screaming. But somehow my traitor of a body leaps up and down in joy and cheers and does a twirling happy dance. Oh, the woe! Oh, the shame! Oh, the pain! And then I almost get choked to death when Joyce sticks her tongue down my throat. Oh, poor, poor me.

I just want to be happy.

I just want to be loved.

Is that too much to ask?

Is it?


	14. I Dreamed A Dream

**I Dreamed A Dream**

I dream a dream. A beautiful dream. Everything is beautiful and at peace. Everybody is laughing—not at me, but with me. I am tall dark and movie star handsome. I have dense silky smooth chest hair and I smell of musk. My teeth are snow-white and I am smiling as brightly as the sun. I look like a mixture of Tom Cruise , Matthew McConaughey, and Bradley Cooper. I look like Al Pacino in _**Scent of a Woman**_. I am wearing a thousand-dollar suit and my shoes are handmade in Italy. I am about to get married. I am going to walk down the aisle and wait for my sweet delicious Cupcake, my darling Stephanie. We have been through a lot, and nothing can ever tear us apart. We are meant for each other. We are a match made in Heaven. I make her a grilled cheese sandwich whenever she can not sleep and we will share that glass of milk. I apply first aid ointment to her gaping wound whenever she cuts herself while cooking for me, and no, she won't die of infection and I will save a trip to the ER. I hook my finger into her collar and peek at her breasts, and she thinks it's most romantic and cute. I have sex with her while she is soundly asleep, and she thinks our relationship is stronger than any date rape drug. We eat pizza, drink beer, watch TV, and then we have sex whether she's awake or not. We are so happy that we almost die.

I am a better police detective than Lucas Davenport, Virgil Flowers, Harry Bosch, and John McClane. She is a better housewife than Martha Stewart and a better cook than Julia Child. We paint my little cozy lovely house pink, and we have a rose garden in the front yard. Every evening when I arrive home at 5:59, she will be waiting for me on the porch in the sexy cute little pink lace apron. The pot roast won't be too dry or overcooked. The mashed potatoes and gravy will taste like Heaven. She will serve me chocolate chip cookies and coffee after diner. We will watch the Mets game together and have a quickie during the 7th inning stretch. She will say I am the best and most amazing lover in the world. She will say I am magic and every woman's dream. She won't say I am a child molester in disguise. She won't say I am a sex predator who feigns innocence. She won't say I am a violent angry man. She will let me cuff her naked to our shower curtain rod. She will laugh and squeal happily while I trash everything we have. She will yelps excitedly when I roar and raise my hand to slap her. She will say we are just as perfect as **_Jersey Shore_**. And we will be so happy that we almost die.

The church bells toll. My heartbeat quickens. My precious Cupcake, my beautiful lovely Stephanie walks down the aisle toward me in an ivory wedding dress. OMG, she looks just like a combination of Snooki, Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, and Lindsay Lohan. Her mother cries happy tears and blows her nose. My Grandma Bella stands up and starts singing _ **The Phantom of the Opera**_ and ** _American Pie_**. Everybody claps and cheers. My loyal playful drooling dog Bob raises his head and howls. I am smiling like a happy idiot. My precious Cupcake shyly looks at me and blushes.I take hold of her hand and slide the ring onto her slender finger. The priest announces us as husband and wife. I lean forward to kiss my precious Cupcake, my beautiful bride. And then all of a sudden my Cupcake, my preciousssssss morphs into Joyce. I try to jump back. I scream in terror. But Joyce has me in her evil clutches. With blood-red lips she sucks the life and soul and happiness out of me. Oh Lord, I know I am so doomed...

With a thump I drop off my bed to the floor and scare myself awake. I am soaked in cold sweat. I feel desperate. I feel frightened. I am all alone inside my dark bedroom. I am naked and bruised and battered. My furry body is covered with bite marks and nail scratches. The air smells of Chanel No.5, Joyce's favorite. Bob ran away to my mother's house this afternoon. Joyce will be moving in with me tomorrow. And we are going to get married in 6 months. My mother wants 6 grandchildren: 3 boys, 3 girls. I weep in the darkness. My silent tears flood down my cheeks. I just want to be happy. I just want to be loved. I just want to spend the rest of my life with the one I love. I just want to hold my Cupcake's slender white hand. I just want to kiss Ranger's soft perfect lips. I just want—wait a minute, what did I just say? I want to hold my Cupcake's slender white hand...I want to kiss **WHOSE** soft perfect lips? No no no no no no no! I am not gay! I am heterosexual! I may be bipolar but I am definitely not bisexual! Oh God. Oh Lord. I am a hairy police detective, for Christ's sake! I may be allured by Ranger's good looks and power and money, but I am absolutely not attracted to him sexually! I just want to know how it feels like to drive his sleek expensive sexy cars. I just want to know how it feel like to wear that painted-on black t-shirt. I just want to know how it feels to slam bad guys into the wall. I just want to know how it feel like to carry 2 guns and a knife all the time. I just want to run my hand through his smooth straight hair...I just want to reach out my hands and feel his rock-hard abs...I just want to press myself into him and feel the heat of his perfect muscular mouthwatering Mocha Latte body...I just...I just...I just...

No no no no no no no! I am not gay! No no no no no no no! I am an engaged man! I am am soon to be married! I will be happy with the woman my mother has chosen for me! I will be fulfilled! I will be contented! I will be the father of our 6 beautiful children! I will be a loyal husband! I will be a good son and good father! I will not end up like my father! I will not break my mother's heart and cheat on my wife! I am not like my brother, uncles, and cousins! I have overcome the infamous Morelli curse! I shall never become a drunkard and gambler. I shall never betray my the mother of my children. I shall never abandon my children. I shall never walk away from my responsibility and obligation. I am an honest, decent man. I am polite and am friendly to all my neighbors. I do my job and pay my taxes.

But why oh God why can't someone write my life into a real life fairy tale? Why do I have to marry Joyce Barnhardt, the curse of my life and the bane of my existence? Why me? Why? Why? **WHY?**


	15. Hills Like White Elephant

**Hills Like White Elephant**

Loneliness. Fatigue, Exhaustion. Desperation. Fear. I am a prisoner of my life. I look through the small window and see a sea of emptiness. I feel hollow inside. I am just like a meaningless echo. I am a toy soldier. My fate is in someone else's hand. I don't get to decide. I am not allowed to escape. The world is upon my shoulders. The huge smile on my mother's face. The cold merciless warning in her eyes. The laughter. The chatting. The deafening sound of other people's indifferent happiness. I can't even cry. My tears are dry. I walk under the sun and feel so cold.

I want to know what love is. I want my Cupcake to show me. Oh, Cupcake, my precious Cupcake. I want to taste her sweet smiling lips. I want to whisper sweet nonsense in her ear. I want to run hand in hand with her on the green meadow in slow motion. I want to wrap my arms around her slender waist and twirl in a circle as we dance on the golden sand. I want to breathe in the heavenly scent of her innocence. I want to look into her clear blue eyes and see eternity. I want to compare her to a summer day. I want to gather the rose bud and spend 2 hundred years to adore her breasts. I want to get down on my knees and hold her hands. I want to go with her to Disney Land. I want us to walk down Sunset Boulevard. I want us to gasp at the same moment as we watch the amazing dynamic Samoan fire dance. I want to sing her a Hawaiian love song. I want to tattoo her face on my back.

I am going to marry another woman in a few weeks. My darling lovely Cupcake, my beloved Stephanie, is going to give birth to her first baby next month. How I hope the boy is my child. I have seen her several times in the past few months, from afar. Motherhood becomes her, and Ranger is always there by her side. They look perfect together. She looks so happy, so contented. He looks as cool and calm and tall and dark and mysterious and attractive and handsome and mouth-watering delicious as ever. But still I want it to be me. I want to be the love of my Cupcake's life. I want to be the father of my Cupcake's son. I want to be there when he is born. I want to hold him in my arms. I want to feel his tiny hand grasp hold of my finger. I want to sing him a lullaby. I want to watch him learn to walk. I want to hear him call me Daddy. We will be a happy family. They will love me with all their hearts. I will be so happy that every night when I close my eyes I will see their beautiful faces smiling in my dream...

"Morelli! Get your hairy ass over here!  **NOW**."

I let out another sigh. I stand up from my messy office desk and start toward the interrogation room. Once again I am summoned by my Captain, Jethro Reacher, the living legend, to crack and break down yet another suspect. One of them told me yesterday that I look just like Tard the Grumpy Cat. He begged me to stop saying:"Went to Disney World. Ate Mickey Mouse." in his brain and burst into tears. I have never been to Disney World. I wonder how Mickey Mouse tastes like. Rich? Light? Or mousy? I heard human flesh is sour. An unpleasant cold shiver creeps down my spine and I start to tremble uncontrollably as I remember the gleam in Joyce's eyes when she told me last night that I tasted so pure, so sweet, and so innocent. She made me tell her that I love her like no one else. She made me feel small and timid. She made me do...things. She said she will teach me how to wash her dishes and do her laundry, how to dust the curtains and vacuum the carpet, how to iron her bras and her panties and how to sew on her buttons. She said she expects me to put flowers in the vase every morning and prepare her meals and midnight snacks. She said she will train and tame me. She said she will will broaden my horizon and change me. She said she will be proud of me. She said my mother will be proud of me. She said I will be happy. We are going to get married in a few weeks. The ceremony will be lovely. The food and flowers and music will be perfect and amazing. Her wedding dress will be stunning. On our wedding night she will make sure I give her our first baby. It will be a girl. A girl just like her Mommy.

Both my eyes start to twitch. My legs feel weak. I stumble and nearly fall. I can hardly breathe. I know I need to get the Hell outta here. I know I want to be free. I know I deserve to be happy. I know I deserve to be love. I know I don't want to spend the rest of my life with the woman who molested me when I was a cute shy adorable little boy and years later sold my virginity for 20 bucks and—I just found out last week—a bag of chips. Twice she wrote about me on public bathroom walls. The first time it was about my little Joseph. The second time it was about how good I tasted and how sweet my screams sounded in her ears. And now she has started calling me Cupcake...

Oh the woe! Oh the terror! Oh the pain! Oh the shame! Where is God? Why didn't He answer my prayers? Why hasn't He shown me a path? Is He going to save me from all evil or not? What should I do? Where should I flee to? Will I find a shelter? Will help arrive in time? Will my mother forgive me if I run away before the wedding? Will she die of anger and heartbreak? Will she curse me and say I am just like my shameless worthless father? No! No!No! No! No! How can I desert her? I am her only hope. I am much much better than my loser of a brother. I am her favorite child. I am her sweetest baby boy. She has spent so much time planning my wedding. I can't be that selfish. I will make her smile. I will make her proud. I must do the right thing. Even if it will end up killing me...Oh Lord, why can't you have mercy on me? What have I done to deserve this dark painful miserable fate? Why? Why? WHY? I whimper and moan and cry. I let my tears and snot run wild. I bare my pain to the silent universe. I sob. I howl. I myself an ocean and moan some more. Then I am most rudely interrupted by a shaky pleading voice.

"Stop it! Just stop it! I confess! I confess! I will tell you everything! I will take the oath and testify on the stand in front of live TV! l will tell the judge and the jury anything you want me to say! Just make him stop and get him out of here! Please! I am begging you!"

The hairy bald meaty man is shivering and covered in panic tears. The 2 senior detectives in the interrogation room pat me on my back and gently push me out of the door with ear to ear grins.

"Good job, Morelli."

One of them says and closes the door in my face. I suddenly feel tired and hungry. It's another ordinary Monday. It's another busy morning. I have helped crack an other case. I should be proud of myself. I should be happy. I grab a doughnut from the box and take a bite. It's deliciously sweet. It's is soft and fluffy. Sad tears roll down my face as I slowly chew. I am going to become Mr. Joyce Barnhardt, in a few weeks. And no, there's no escape...

Oh the woe! Oh the terror! Oh the pain! Oh the shame! Oh Lord! Why me? **WHY?**


	16. For It Tolls For Thee...

**For It Tolls For Thee...**

It's my wedding day. It now or never. I have to make a quick decision. I can either walk down the aisle to wait for Joyce or run away like Hell. It's my life. It's my happiness. We only live once so I have to choose wisely. I have to think for myself. I have a bright future ahead of me. I am still young. I have dreams. I am in love with someone else. I don't want to have any regret. And my precious Cupcake, my sweetest darling Stephanie, is going to become a mother. My eyes tear up whenever I see her from afar or hear about her and the baby. She's so beautiful. I know the child will be beautiful. Ranger is scary but he's beautiful, too. Sometimes I secretly think he's actually very cute and adorable. I love his deep almost black dark brown eyes. I love his short silky smooth almost black hair. I love his perfect flawless Mocha Latte skin. I love his perfect supple muscles. I love his quiet and passionate Latino charm. I am willing to die for his long dense eyelashes. No, I am definitely not gay but still I'd love to have a taste of his perfect lips...

I look at myself in the mirror. I am all alone inside the groom's waiting room. My mother, Grandma, aunts and sister are out there busy chatting with the excited guests. Joyce and her girl friends are laughing and cheering in the bride's waiting room down the hall. It's now. Or never. I love happy endings. I love apple pies and strawberry crumbles. I am a proud cupcake man. The buttercream on top of my cupcakes must be totally whipped. I am a capable police detective. I make the baddest criminals weep. I have made tons of stupid mistakes. I am far from perfect. I have been ravished by Joyce. I am no longer pure. But a little voice deep down within keeps telling me I deserve to be happy, even though the mere thought of being cuffed naked to my bedpost and getting whipped by Joyce as she dances to the beat of  _ **Gangnam Style**_  turns me on. Oh Lord, I am not exactly a bad man. I am a sinful man. I don't want to humiliate my family in public. I don't want to shame my mother. I am the slave of my powerful and most strange desire. I just want everyone to be happy. Can't I be happy, too?

**"Run, Forest. Run!"** All of a suddenly I hear Lieutenant Dan shouting in my ears. And without thinking I start running. I run out of the groom's waiting room. I run down the hallway toward the back door of the church.

"Joe? Where are going? Joe?" My brother and cousin yell after me and I just keep running. I didn't look back. I didn't stop to say goodbye. I can't stop. I can't look back. I have to keep running. I have to run away as fast as I can. I have to run away before it's too late. I don't want to get trapped. I don't want to get caught. Life is too short to be unhappy. Take the risk. Grab your chance. Seize the day. "Let's carpe the fuck out of diem, Cupcake" as Joyce loves to whisper in my ear when she ties me up and strips me naked. I think of Joyce and I just keep running. I run faster. And faster. And faster. I can hear my heart thumping in my ears.

"Joe Morelli!" My mother's piercing scream stabs through my heart like a sharpest knife. Tears flood down my face but still I keep running as fast as I can. I so want to tell my mother I love her and I am so so sorry. But I can't stop. I just can't. I have to run away before it's too late. I have to run away before I am trapped and caged. "You stop there right now! Joseph! Don't you dare humiliate me in front of the whole city!"

"Joseph! What are you doing? Where are you going?" Grandma Bella cries my name in her old cracked shaky voice. "Joseph! Stop! Come back to your Grandma now! Joseph! Stop!" Tears blur my vision as I sob uncontrollably. I love my Grandma. I am her favorite. I don't want to leave her. But I don't have a choice. This is my life. This is my chance. This is my happiness. I just want to be happy. I have to keep running. I have to run away from a fate worse than death. I can't spend the rest of my life with someone I don't even love. I just can't.

I want to turn back to see if Joyce is after me. She'a a man-eater. She's nasty. She's mean. She's always, ALWAYS, hungry. She made me cry out in great pleasure. She made me moan in unbearable pain. She made me...do things. She made me feel that I was no longer myself. She made me feel eager and nauseous. She made me feel excited. She makes me scared of what I may become. No. No. No. I can't stay. I don't want to change. I am too frightened. I am too afraid. It's desire. It's lust. It's not love. And I just want to be loved, to be cherished, and be happy.

I come to a crossroad. I am nervous. I am breathless. I didn't stop. I need to keep running. I know Joyce will come after me. I don't want to think what will happen if she catches me. I tell myself to be brave and wipe away my tears. I didn't stop. I keep running. And I never saw the 18-wheeler until it's too late.

"Joe! Oh my God! Joe!" I vaguely hear the familiar voice. I feel a cold shiver creeping all over me. I need to get up and keep run. I can't stop. I can't get caught. I want to be happy. I need to be happy. I deserve to be happy. I am no child molester. I am no pervert. I need to get away from Joyce, my bride-to-be.

Oh the woe! Oh the terror! Oh the pain! Oh the...

Blackness swallows me.

 


	17. Twilight!

**Twilight!**

I blink and look into my father's sad brown eyes. I miss his handsome smile. I was still young when he died. Father Giordano explained to me about life and death. Everything was God's will, he kept saying, God knew best. But I just cried. I knew my father had done something wrong. I'd seen him with the pretty doughnut lady many many times. I'd heard my mother crying in the night. His bright red Alfa Romeo slammed head-on into an 18-wheeler. I ignored the traffic light and got hit by an 18 wheeler. Father and son. Two of a kind. I almost laugh.

"Joe. Joe. Joe." My father sighs. He's indeed a tall dark good-looking man. We have the same melted chocolate eyes. We look so much alike. However, he's not as hairy as I am. "Stop running away from your life. Stop making the same mistakes I made. Stop running away from true love."

I gape at my father, my brain totally blank. Life? Mistakes? Love? What the hell? "You are not my father." I whisper. "You are not my father." My father was a selfish rat bastard. My father was a shameless cheater. My father used to beat the hell out of my brother and me when he came home drunk. He wouldn't stop even if we begged and cried. He slapped my mother around when she tried to protect her sons. Grandma Bella just held my sister in her arms and prayed and wept. Father Giordano was a kind old man. He was like the Grandpa I never had. I cried because I was glad. I was glad my father was dead. "You are not my father. You are not real. You are a lie, a trick of light."

"Joe. Joe. Joe." Again my father sighs. He looks sorry. He looks sad. "Don't turn away from the truth. Don't lie to yourself. Don't betray the ones you love." He looks so true. He looks so real. He took me out for ice cream one day when the weather was hot. It was the happiest day in my life. I ate two sundaes. He sat there smiling, sipping his iced coffee. He ruffled my hair when I burped. We brought pizzas and cupcakes home. Grandma Bella hugged him and kissed him on the cheeks. My mother couldn't stop smiling. Then he met the doughnut lady and everything changed.

"You are not my father!" I yell and wave my arms. I shout and scream and cry. I feel so hurt inside. I don't know what's happening to my life. Am I dead? Am I alive? I saw the 18-wheeler and then everything turned black. Is this really my father? Is he in Heaven or in Hell? Is God real? Why does he keep smiling? Why is he wearing the same shirt? Why can't I stop thinking of the day he took me out for ice cream? Why can't I stop loving him? Why can't I keep hating him? Why did he have to cheat on my mother? Why did he have to get drunk and beat us up? Why did he have to die? Why couldn't he be like Stephanie's Dad? Why? Oh why? Oh the woe! Oh the sorrow! Oh the pain! Oh the terror! Oh the...

My father disappears in front of my eyes. I turn around and around wildly trying to find him. I want to tell him how much I miss him. I want to tell him how much I love him. I want to tell him how much I hate him for what he did to me. I want to tell him I know what my mother did to his bright red Alfa Romeo the day before he died. I saw everything. I told no one. Grandpa Rossi started his garage business with Grandma Maria's help. All my uncles still work there and they always say my mother used to be the best mechanic around:

"If only she didn't meet your Dad." Uncle Buddy sighed.

"If only she didn't fall for his good looks and lies." Uncle Tony frowned.

"If only she didn't get knocked up." Uncle Mario shook his head.

"If only you didn't look so much like that rat bastard." Uncle Joe narrowed his eyes.

My mother gave up everything, EVERYTHING, for love. She didn't get her happily ever after. Her prince in shining armour turned out to be a douchebag in tin foil. He betrayed her trust. He betrayed her love. He planned to dump her. He planned to take all the money. She had no choice. She had to stop him. She had to revenge. She's a strong woman. She's a tough mother. She's smart and calm. She loves with all her heart. She hates with all her soul. She and Joyce are so much alike...

Joyce. A cold shiver creeps down my spine. Joyce. My bride. My wife-to-be. Did she come after me? What will she do if she catch me? Will she punish me? Will she make me moan? Will she make me scream? Will she...will she make me do those...things?  _ **Fifty Shades of Grey**_. B  & D. S & M. She's my Mistress. I am her slave. Her toy. A mere plaything...

"Joe! Oh my God! Joe!" I vaguely hear the familiar voice. I try to open my eyes but fail. I have no strength. I feel so tired. I feel so weak. I suddenly remember a beautiful song. I hope I remember all the lyrics. "Joe! Can you hear me?"

_Don't make me sad *****._  I think of my Cupcake, my Stephanie.  _Don't make me cry._

_Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough._ She's married to someone else. Ranger will kill me if I keep bothering her.  _I don't know why._

_Keep making me laugh._  I am helplessly in love with Stephanie, even though she's carrying someone else's baby.  _Let's go get high._

_The road is long, we carry on._ I am hopelessly in love with Ranger. I wish I can be as perfect as he is.  _Try to have fun in the meantime._

"Joe! Wake up! Joe! Did you hear me! Joe!" My heart skips a dozen beats. I know that voice. I know it too well. My soul cringes and shivers as Joyce screams in my ear. Joyce so-to-be Morelli. My future wife. The mother of my kids. "Joe Morelli! Don't you die on me!"

_Cause you and I, we were born to die._ Yeah, I wish. Oh Sweet Baby Jesus, why am I still alive? Why am I not dead? I can feel my arms. I can feel my legs. I can smell the sweet Jersey air. Oh Lord. Why didn't the 18 wheeler kill me?

Why?

WHY?

WHY ME?

*** Born To Die by Lana Del Rey.**


	18. Les Misérables

**Les Misérables**

Maybe I should quit my job, pack my things, and go to a far, far away place. Maybe I should find a quiet little town, settle down, open a little store, and sell cupcakes. Colorful cupcakes. Cheerful cupcakes. Beautiful cupcakes. Tasty cupcakes. Soft cupcakes. Happy cupcakes. The air will be filled with the delicious scent of sugar and cream. Huge happy grins will be on everybody's face. The cupcakes will be as sweet and light as Stephanie's smile. The coffee will be as hot and rich as Ranger's almost black eyes. I will wake up every day at the first ray of dawn. I will sing a sad beautiful Italian song while mixing the batter and whipping the buttercream. The sun, the moon, and the stars will smile at me. The birds and the squirrels will sing and dance with me. And one day my prince will come and kiss me on my lips. We will be as happy as Daenerys Stormborn and Khal Drogo, the tall dark hairy Dothraki warlord. I won't be able to bare him children, but we will be happy, so so happy, we will be free—

"Joseph, oh my Joseph!" Grandma Bella wails and bursts into tears. "Wake up, wake up now, please!"

My hearts cracks and shatters. I almost weep at Grandma Bella's misery. I want to sit up and throw myself into her thin old arms. I want her to hold me tight when I tell her I am perfectly alright. I need her unconditional love to comfort my tortured soul and heal all my mental wounds. But will she love me still if she learns of all the things Joyce made me do? Will she cherish me the same if she knows I secretly love another man? Will she forgive me for faking unconsciousness? Will she give me the Eye and cut me off? My mother, no doubt, will be enraged. She will smack the crap outta me, and then drag me straight out of the hospital and drop me on Joyce's doorstep. And Joyce—

Wait. Why isn't Joyce here? Why isn't she here crying by my side? Why isn't she here holding and kissing my hand? Why isn't she here whispering hot nasty things into my ear? Is she not going to be my bride? Is she not going to be the mother of my children? Is she not going to put a ring on me and make me the unhappiest man in this sad mad world? Is she not going to chain me to the bed spread-eagle and have her wicked way till I scream and shout and cry and beg? Does she not love me anymore? Does she not want me anymore? Has she finally had enough and decided to walk out of my life without a backward glance?

No. No. No. No. No. Get a grip, Joseph. You are here because you didn't want to marry Joyce, remember? She's the reason why you decided to lie still on the bed and play dead to the world. She's the one who terrifies you. She's the one who cuffed you to your own shower curtain rod. She's the one who made you do all those horrible, unspeakable things. Hello, don't you remember? Don't give in. Keep your eyes closed. Let her go. You never loved her anyway. You never wanted her to begin with. You are in love with Stephanie. You are in love with Ranger. You don't want to be a broodmare. You don't want to be a sex toy. You want to be loved. You want to be free. And this is your perfect chance! Don't let it slip out of your hand! you are a good man. You deserve to be happy!

My whole body shakes as I silently scream and shout at my miserable self. No, I don't love Joyce. No, I don't want Joyce. What Joyce did to me made me feel ashamed of myself. What Joyce made me do disgusted me. But it also gave me pleasure. But is also gave me the thrill. But it also made me feel I was not alone any more. The scars and bruises she left all over my hairy body made me whole. I don't love Joyce. I don't want Joyce. I need Joyce. I long for Joyce. Oh Lord, I am so confused!

"Joseph, oh my Joseph!"

Grandma Bella take hold of my hand. Tears flow down her old wrinkled face. The warmth of her trembling hands brings tears to my eyes. I try my best not to cry. I want to tell her I am alright but dare not to. I want to ask her about Joyce but dare not to. I juts want to be loved. I just want to be cherished. In just want to be happy. I just want to be free. I don't know what to do. I am torn. So torn. I am in love with Stephanie and Ranger. I can't let go of Joyce. I miss all the things she did to me. I miss all the things she whispered in my ears. I want to do again all the things she made me do. I want to feel the thrill. I want to feel the pleasure. I want to feel whole again. I want to feel alive. I want to quit my job, move away, and open my own cupcake place. I want to jump out of bed and run all the way to Joyce. I want to drop to my knees and beg for her mercy. But I still don't want to marry Joyce. Oh Lord, why does life have to be this complicated? Why can't things be simpler and easier? Why can't I know my hearty's true desires? Why do I wish Joyce is here to whip me and spank me. Why do I want to hear Joyce saying, "Good boy, Joe"? Why do I want Joyce to ravish me right here right now on this narrow hospital bed in front of all the doctors and nurses and Grandma Bella?

Oh Lord, what is so wrong with me?

Oh Lord, why me?

**WHY?**


	19. Breaking Dawn

**Breaking Dawn**

I jerk awake. Someone's sitting by the side of my uncomfortable narrow bed. The scent of expensive French perfume invades my senses. And turns me on. Joyce. She's finally here. My heart gives a happy leap as I try my best to control my face. Maybe she will go away. Maybe she will stay. Maybe she will take hold of my hand. Maybe she will do unspeakable things to me. Maybe she will make my eyes roll back into my skull. Maybe she will make me see stars. Maybe she will laugh her sexy throaty laugh. Maybe she will whisper dirty little things in my ear. Maybe she will bite me on the neck, like a vampire. Maybe she will give me pleasure so intense that my soul will be torn apart. A part of me can't wait to let he have her way with me. A part of me wants to jump put of the bed and run like Hell. She isn't meant for me. She knows knows exactly what I want. I don't want to marry her and give her children. I want to scream in ecstasy when she locks her hand in my chest hair and peels the wax off my hairy butt.

The pain. The pleasure. The humiliation. The thrill. I want Joyce to strip me naked and ride me like Zorro while all the night shift doctors and nurses are watching. I want them to hear me moan. I want them to hear me scream. I want—

"Don't bother to wake up, Joseph." Joyce's voice cuts my thoughts off. "I know all your dirty little tricks. I know all your dirty little secrets. I know you can hear me."

My heart skips a beat. Joyce lets out a soft bark of laughter. She knows me. She knows me well. Too damn well. I feel helpless. I feel hopeless. I feel my cheeks burning. I keep my eyes shut. Should I open my eyes? What's she wearing tonight? Her blood-red mini skirt? Her warrior princess boots? Her see-though black satin blouse? Why is she here? What does she want? Why is her voice so cold? Why is her tone so distant? What's wrong? What happened?

"I'm here to tell you you win. I'm here to tell you I quit."

Like a sharpest knife Joyce's words stab through my soul. What the heck is she talking about? She's Joyce Barnhardt. She's the bane of my existence and my tormentor. She's the one who molested me in my father's garage. She's the one who sold my virginity to a drunken older girl. She's the one who dragged me through all kinds of Hell. She's the one who cuffed me, chained me, whipped me, partially waxed me, and drowned me with sinful, ultimate pleasure. She's no quitter.

"I know how you feel about Stephanie. I hate the way you look at her. I thought I could mold you, shape you, and change you. I thought I could put a ring on you and make you mine. Guess I was wrong."

Something clinks on my small bedside table. Painful longings fill my heart. If only I gave the courage to open my eyes. If only I have the strength to look into Joyce's smile. If only I actually know what I really want—

"Goodbye, Joseph. It's been fun fucking you." Joyce says, stands up from the chair, and leaves my room.

I sit up, turn my head, open my eyes, and see the ring. The ring my mother forced me to give her. The ring she never took off. Not even when she was the half-naked noble queen and I her totally naked toy and slave. Not even when she tried...things on me. I gape. I blink. I stare at the ring. Free. Free. I am free. Finally. Finally. Free. I don't have to marry Joyce. She returned my ring. She didn't want the ring. She didn't. She didn't. She didn't want me.

I jump out of the bed. I turn toward the door. I start running. Joyce. Joyce. Joyce. Joyce is leaving me. She doesn't want me. Not anymore. I run through the empty corridors. No. No. No. This isn't happening. She can't leave me. She can't not want me. She can't. She just can't. She's Joyce Barnhardt. She's the red-haired witch. She made me do terrible things. She gave me pleasure. It's so complicated. I am so confused. I run. I cry. I scream her name. I plead. I twist and turn and struggle as a huge muscular nurse tackles me to the floor. I scream as I feel the sting of a needle on my butt. I keep calling Joyce's name till the world darkens around me.

But she never comes back.

 


	20. Twilight Zone

**Twilight Zone**

"Are you happy now, Joseph?" My mother says through clenched teeth. "It's all your fault."

I dare not meet her eyes. I feel so ashamed. I didn't lose my job. I got suspended. Without pay. Last night my Captain paid me a visit and slapped me in the back of my head. He told me to man up and get my head straight. I cried for a long time after he left. I don't have many friends. I was a lonely kid. I am a lonely man. I used to be a joke. Now I am a disgrace. I catch a glimpse of my mother's thin tired face, and try my best to hold back my sudden tears.

"You could have it all, but you just had to ruin it all and throw it away. Didn't you, Joseph?"

My mother eyes are too intense. She used to stare at my father this way. The sorrow. The pain. The mixture of love, disbelief, and hate. And then my father would raise his hand and slap her hard. He would kicked us, smash things, and call her names. I can still smell the whiskey in his breath. I can still feel my terror when I watched him grasp hold of my mother and slapped her again. He was such an unhappy man. I was so young. I was so scared. I just wanted the pain to stop. I just wanted to be saved.

Joyce left. She sold her house and left no forwarding address. She simply disappeared. Like a gust of wind. Like a faraway dream. Like the slipping sand. And I am the one to blame. I have lost my one and only chance to happiness. My heart longs for her smirk. My body aches for her hands. The way she whipped me. The way she waxed me. The way she cuffed me to the shower curtain rod. The way she tied me up with duct tape. Joyce has left. She didn't want my ring. She didn't want my soul. And now here I am. All alone. So afraid. So ashamed.

"You are just like your father."

My head spins as I hear what my mother says.

"You are full of lies."

Her words burn through my skin.

"You have no soul."

Her disappointment spits in my face.

"You have no heart."

My whole being shatters as my mother breaks into tears.

"You are just a pretty face."

_Are you happy now, Joseph?_ Her unspoken words ring in my ears.  _You have driven Joyce away. You won't be happy again. You made a big, big mistake. You won't be loved. You won't be cherished. You won't be desired. You will never ever feel the pleasure again. Your heart will still be beating, but nothing will be the same. You will be an empty shell._ _You will be a walking dead. You will walk under the sun but feel no heat. You will sleep under the moon but have no dreams. You are better off dead. Dead. Dead._

My mother dries her eyes, stands up from the cheap plastic chair, and leaves without a backward glance. The huge muscular nurse comes in to check on me. I don't know why they want to keep me here. The 18-wheeler didn't actually hit me. I fell and fainted and cracked a bone in my leg...OMG! OMG! OMG! Is there something wrong with my spine? Is there something wrong with my brain? Is it tumor? Is it cancer? Or something that can't be cured?

Whatever. I close my eyes and roll onto my side. Stephanie is going to give birth to Ranger's baby, my mother is disappointed, I am just like my father, and Joyce has left. Yes. mother. I'm better off dead...

 


	21. Hunger Game

**Hunger Game**

They released me from the hospital.

No one came to pick me up. My mother has cut me off. My siblings don't want to get themselves in any more trouble. I pay for the cab and unlock my door. My house feels very empty. I turn on the TV and sit down on the couch. Bob is still staying at my mother's. I'm hungry. There's nothing in the refrigerator. Turns out I don't have a brain tumor. Tomorrow I will go back to work. I sit alone in the growing darkness. I look at the TV screen, seeing nothing. I feel cold. My stomach groans.

Nobody called.

I dial Pino's. I bite into the cheesy gooeyness. I taste the extra garlic. I burn my tongue. I miss my mother. I miss Grandma Bella. I miss the huge muscular nurse. I miss Bob. I miss Joyce. The Yankees won. A-Rod is going to be in big trouble. My life, from now on, will be very different. No more kinky sex. No more tacky sex toys. No more tough love. I am on my own. I am all alone. I chew on my pizza. I cry a little. The silence is depressing. I can't stand this loneliness. I think of Stephanie. I think of Ranger. I think of their little boy. I think of the day I tried to lure Stephanie into my father's dark garage. I think of her clear blue eyes. I think of the humiliation I suffered. I think of the day she smiled politely at me from behind the bakery counter. Stephanie. My sweet Cupcake. Now a mother. I think of the night when I first met Ranger. People parted in front of him. He was dressed like a gangster. His eyes. Dark. Bright. Dangerous. I knew he was carrying concealed. One hell of a scary man. Beautiful as a pure black rose.

I turn off the TV and go upstairs to lie down in my bed. My small bedroom doesn't smell like Joyce. I close my eyes. I try not to think of tomorrow. I know I should take a shower and brush my teeth. I am tired of being tired. But I have no strength to get up. We can't always get what we want. We can't all have a happily ever after. I try to fall asleep. My brain refuses to cope. My life. My dreams. My longings. My desires. My faults. And my flaws. I am so alone in this big big world. My bed feels cold without Joyce. Where is she? What is she doing? Who is she with? Is she thinking of me? How could she give up so easily? Wasn't I worth the fight? Wasn't I worth the waiting? Who is she to toy with my heart? Who is she to torture my soul? How could she just walk away? How could she just leave without a trace? How could she?

I sob into my pillow. Tomorrow I am going back to work. I will wake up, shower, get dressed, and then put on my game face. I will walk out into the world pretending everything is normal. I may be smiling a little. I may want to call my mother. I may want to beg for her forgiveness. I may want to ask around for Joyce. I may want to do everything I can just to have a peek of Stephanie and Ranger's little boy. I may want to...I may want to...Tomorrow will be another day. My pain will stay the same. My sorrows won't go away. What will be, will be. I breathe in the cold stale air. I let my tears flow. And finally, sleep claims me.

I am Joe Morelli. I am a Trenton police detective. I spend my whole life looking for love. My heart is broken. My soul is shattered. I ache for someone, something.

I'm still hairy...

**~The End~**


End file.
